


Moonlight

by JKRobertson



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Hueco Mundo, Las Noches, Moonlight, Ulquihime Week, Ulquiorra wants the V, uhweek 2018, ulquihime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JKRobertson/pseuds/JKRobertson
Summary: For Ulquihime Week 2018 Day 4:  Moonlight





	Moonlight

The woman lies there. She stirs on occasion, her white dress pulling tight against the curve of her hip, the light reflecting softly off the luminous fabric in a rippling wave as her spine twists and a silent breath escapes her small body. Such a slight movement has drawn my eyes into sharp focus. My fingers itch to reach out and pull that smooth fabric away from her frame. I wish to see how the pale moonlight reflects off of her skin, instead.

Will the light refract off of dew drops of sweat? Will it flood her with light to reveal all to me in stark focus, or will it provide only a dim screen through which my eyes would strain to make out the rise and fall of her form? Would the cool air in this tower cause her skin to constrict and shiver? Would the light catch and magnify the change in topography?

How many more nights will I watch and wait? For how long will my curiosity be sated by this dance of moonlight against her clothing? In this chamber, there is nothing much to distract me from these thoughts. How would her skin feel? Dry? Moist? Warm? Soft? Smooth? Would it be fragrant? What is visible in this light is so pale. Would she taste of nothing? Of stone? Would the paleness of her skin extend throughout her body, or would there be areas of variance? Would the moon’s light reveal areas of darkness? Areas of color? How would those areas taste? What would be their fragrance?

I pull my eyes from the sleeping woman and to the source. That crescent. That sliver of white piercing the black velvet tapestry over all of Hueco Mundo. How dare it reveal only a portion of that which I wish to discover? By what means does it find the audacity to taunt me? I should fly up to it and rip it from the sky. I should destroy it with a cero. I should curse its being and damn it to the sands below. But what then? Without its light, all that is left is darkness. No dress. No curve. No skin. No woman. Without this contemptuous moonlight, my eye sees nothing. There is nothing.

It is unacceptable.

I am left with no choice. I approach the woman bathed in white and wait. She will wake, and when she does, she will answer my question.

Do I frighten you, woman?

She has answered me before. Should she maintain her position; should she tell me again that she fears me not, I will have my curiosity satisfied. I shall see her skin. I shall smell her fragrance. I shall taste her flavor and I shall feel her flesh under me. I will not hesitate to mark that perfect neck of hers. I will press my black fingertips into her recesses and see how deeply the moonlight penetrates her.

Perhaps it is not the moon’s light that I seek; but hers.


End file.
